Lyra’s POV
“Move faster, Lyra!
Those trays won’t carry themselves, and the circle won’t wait!”
The shout cracked across the courtyard, and Lyra’s shoulders jumped before she even turned around.
She sped up anyway, arms straining under the weight of the tray.
Master Eamon came marching over, his sharp eyes checking every corner of the ceremony grounds like something might be wrong with the grass itself.
When he got close, his voice dropped to almost nothing.
“Poison check.
Did you do it?”
“Twice,” Lyra said quietly.
“Once before I brought everything out, and again just now.
It’s clean.”
She wasn’t exaggerating.
Years of watching for poisoned food had taught her tricks most people never bothered to learn, which ones acted slow, which ones hid their smell, which ones only showed up if you knew exactly where to look.
Tonight, there was no room for mistakes.
None at all.
Eamon’s shoulders relaxed a little.
“Good girl.
Now hurry and grab the rest.”
“Yes, Master.”
She lifted the tray again, and the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread drifted past her, but her mind wasn’t on food.
It was on something much bigger.
Tonight was the ceremony.
Tonight, every wolf who had turned eighteen would step into the moonlit mating circle and find out who the moon goddess had picked for them.
Just thinking about it made her stomach flip.
This was it.
After years of scrubbing pots, hauling trays, and being pushed around by everyone above her, her whole world was about to shift.
No more being invisible.
No more being the omega nobody bothered to notice.
Tonight, someone would choose her.
She set the tray down for a second and let herself breathe.
“Somewhere out there,” she whispered, gripping the table’s edge, “is someone who actually wants me.”
“You’re talking to the food again.”
Lyra spun around.
Master Eamon still stood there, one eyebrow raised, clearly trying not to smile.
Her cheeks burned.
“I wasn’t talking to the food!
I was just…
talking myself into staying hopeful.” She stuttered.
His expression changed, softer now.
“You deserve better than what this pack has given you,” he said.
“Someone who notices the work you do, who sees you keeping this place together while everyone else takes it for granted.
If the Moon Goddess is fair, tonight she’ll finally give you that.”
“I hope so,” Lyra murmured.
“I really hope she sees me.”
Eamon squeezed her arm briefly.
“She does.
Now go, the moon’s almost at its peak.”
She turned to grab another tray and walked straight into Freya.
Her foster sister looked her up and down, lantern light catching the smug curve of her mouth.
“Still dreaming some mate is going to rescue you from being an omega?” Freya’s voice was pure ice.
“Don’t waste your hope, Lyra.
You’ll end up with some weak little omega boy, just like you deserve.” She leaned in, her scent thick with dominance.
“Stop pretending you’re worth more than scraps.”
Freya flipped her hair and walked off without waiting for a reply.
The words hurt, they always did, but Lyra shoved the feeling down and picked up her tray.
Tonight would not be ruined.
Not by Freya, not by anyone.
The moon was rising, and nothing else mattered.
By the time night fully settled, silver moonlight washed over the ceremony circle, and every wolf in the pack stood waiting.
The air buzzed with nervous energy, quiet growls, shaky breaths, the soft sound of fur brushing against skin as bodies prepared to shift.
Wolf scents rolled through the crowd, wild and heavy, and Lyra could feel her own heart slamming against her ribs.
Around her, some wolves stood frozen with nerves.
Others looked ready to burst out of their skin.
She understood both feelings perfectly.
Lyra’s turn came, and she stepped into the circle on shaking legs, trying to steady her breathing as the whole pack’s energy pressed in around her.
The first howl rang out, and Lyra’s whole body went still.
Somewhere in the crowd, a wolf had just found their mate.
The sound rolled through her chest like thunder, and something in her spine tingled in response.
She watched as another wolf shifted fully, fur catching the moonlight, teeth showing in an excited grin as they locked eyes with their mate.
The joy on their face, the relief, the pure hunger to finally belong to someone, made her chest tighten with longing.
Her eyes swept the circle.
Pair after pair was forming, wolves calling out to each other by instinct alone, low growls of recognition rolling across the grounds like a wave.
Then a scent hit her.
Sharp.
Familiar.
Impossible to mistake.
Keller.
“Mate,” Lyra’s wolf howled inside her, and everything else went silent.
Her eyes found his across the circle, and the world seemed to stop turning.
Keller.
The Alpha heir.
Her mate?
Her heart pounded so hard she thought the whole pack could hear it.
Every part of her recognized him, screamed for him.
The bond snapped into place, burning, real and undeniable.
Then his face changed.
That first flash of recognition in his amber eyes, the flicker of his wolf reaching for her, vanished like it had never existed.
What replaced it was cold.
Disgusted.
Confused.
He knew who she was now.
And whatever he’d felt a heartbeat ago was already gone.
Panic flooded through her, ice cold, right as hands grabbed her from behind.
Freya.
Her foster sister’s scent wrapped around her as she was yanked backward out of the circle.
Lyra fought back, claws extending, her body twisting to break free, but Freya held on tighter than she expected.
“You will never take him from me,” Freya snarled against her ear, her wolf’s growl bleeding into her voice.
“That position is mine.
It’s always been mine.”
“No,” Lyra spat back, baring her teeth.
“Keller is my mate.
The Moon Goddess chose him for me, not you.
You can’t undo that.”
The bond pulsed through her veins, loud and demanding, every nerve in her body screaming for him in a way she’d never felt before.
Freya laughed, cold and cruel.
“You’re an omega.
Weak.
Pathetic.
He would never choose you over me.
I’m the one worthy of his strength, his title, everything.” She shoved Lyra harder, dragging her toward the edge of the grounds.
A low growl rolled out from the shadows.
“Enough.”
Keller stepped forward, not fully shifted, but carrying the kind of authority that made the whole clearing go quiet.
Power radiated off him with every step.
Lyra’s heart lifted.
This was her mate.
He’d come for her.
His amber eyes locked onto hers, and for one brief second, something soft crossed his face.
She opened her mouth.
“Keller, we’re mates.
You feel it too, I know you do.”
His jaw hardened.
His teeth showed, just barely.
When he spoke, his voice came out flat and cold.
“An omega cannot be my mate.
You are not what I want.” His eyes flicked toward Freya.
“I want someone strong.
Someone worthy.
Someone like her.”
Her?
Lyra’s stomach dropped as she caught Freya’s triumphant smirk.
He was choosing her sister.
Over his own mate.
Keller’s voice thundered across the grounds.
“Lyra Storme, I, Keller Varyn, Alpha Heir of Crescent Pack, reject you as my mate.”
Something inside her shattered.
Lyra’s wolf let out a howl of pure agony as the bond that had just burned to life ripped apart, thread by thread.
Pain tore through her chest, sharp and unbearable, and her knees buckled.
She hit the ground, fingers clawing into the dirt as her heart cracked wide open.
She barely registered the blow before it landed.
Something struck Lyra hard from behind, and the world spun sideways as her body slammed into the earth.
Pain exploded behind her eyes.
Blood filled her mouth.
Her wolf shrieked in panic, trying to pull her back to her feet, but the darkness was already closing in.
Then there was nothing.